


Love Sticks, Sweat Drips

by FoxglovePrincess



Series: Your Heart Is The Only Place That I Call Home [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Childhood Friends, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Knotting, Mating, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Sex, Smut, Touch Deprivation - Disease, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26702170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxglovePrincess/pseuds/FoxglovePrincess
Summary: It’s finally come (if you’ll pardon the pun). The reader’s heat finally hits and it’s time for her alpha to take care of her.*written in first person with no name assigned, only pet names (sweetheart, babydoll). minimal description of reader/narrator appearance, the reader uses female pronouns and has female anatomy.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader, Jane Foster/Sif/Thor, Steve Rogers/Reader, Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Series: Your Heart Is The Only Place That I Call Home [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923169
Comments: 26
Kudos: 284





	Love Sticks, Sweat Drips

**Author's Note:**

> And here’s the conclusion to this trilogy. I’ve really enjoyed writing in this A/B/O universe and crafting the relationships between the characters. 
> 
> I don’t plan on adding any more stories to the relationship between the reader, Steve, and Bucky in this series. However, I do have an idea for an alternate universe of this story where things turn out quite differently (it would only be a one-shot in the series). Let me know if that’s something you’re interested in.
> 
> Tell what you think in the comments. If I’m missing any tags, let me know (I tried to get everything, but no one’s perfect).
> 
> UnBeta’d, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title taken from “Kiss With a Fist” by Florence + the Machine.
> 
> This work is not to be reposted on any other site without my explicit permission.

The quiet hush of the library walls surround me as I lose myself in my work. My eyes scan the page of a book as my right hand shakes out the tension and strain from my muscles. Looking for detail and accuracy in the text, my free hand skims the page, tapping on various words. My eyes flit to another open book across from me, pulling it forward to verify accounts. The slam of a new stack of books jolts me from my concentration.

“Is this all?” a voice groans. A body slumps into a chair next to me. “I feel like I could benchpress a Sumo wrestler now.”

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, jotting a note in my spiral notebook before turning my attention to my new companion. “I know it’s a lot.”

“Don’t complain, Darcy, this is your job,” Wanda gently chides as she strolls over to my table.

I lean back in my seat to greet her, re-emerging from my research after a good chunk of time. My eyes fall to the clock on the wall as I stretch sore muscles and smile at my friends.

My hand reaches out toward Wanda, a grabby gesture for her to lace her fingers with mine. She complies easily, brushing her fingers over my knuckles and perching gently on the table ledge.

“You’re worse than a college student,” Darcy states, pushing a book away from her. “I mean, at least those guys let loose and party every once in a while.” A snort tickles my nose as Darcy presses her forehead to my shoulder. Wanda sighs and rolls her eyes, fondness in her expression.

“Research is literally my job,” I explain for the hundredth time. “I like it, I’m good at it.” My shoulders shrug, disturbing the younger omega’s place leaning on me. She grumbles.

“Plus, she doesn’t need to party,” Wanda adds, mischief sparkling in her gaze. “She has two mates, ever willing to rock her world.”

A squawk of indignation bursts from my lips as Darcy giggles into my arm. Her sweet scent of orange and clove drifts into my nose. I take a moment to pat her gently on the head before shaking my arm, dislodging her with a playful smile.

“Hey!” she huffs in indignation. My own laughter bubbles up within me, spilling from my lips. “Rude.” She points an accusing finger toward me and I nip at it. “Wanda!” she cries with a grand gesture of disbelief.

The other omega doesn’t reply, kind eyes locked on me as she watches my utter merriment. Catching her gaze, my head tilts in question, trying to discern the reason for her stare. She waves me off with a flick of her wrist, a short chuckle of laughter.

But I think I know—seen it in other people’s eyes—a sense of relief. My behavior and attitude changed so drastically from before. Opening myself up and accepting their love and care, and showing it in return.

“Excuse me, ladies,” A voice intones from behind us. We turn and a smirk dances on my lips as I see Wanda’s esteemed alpha, Viz, standing next to one of the stacks. “Can one of you point me in the direction of the most amazing omega known to man?” Wanda immediately throws herself off the table and jumps into the man’s arms—elated giggles dancing on her lips. A surprise visit, then—too adorable.

Wanda peeks back with a guilty look on her face and I snort back my laugh. I gesture for her to leave—because God knows, I wouldn’t wait around for my friend’s approval if even one of my mates were around.

“And she teases me about my mates,” I mumble with an amused sigh. Turning back to my books, I click my pen and tap it lightly on my notepad.

“What _are_ your mates like?” Darcy questions as she continues to watch the pair in their hasty retreat. I glance over my shoulder briefly and then turn to the woman next to me.

“Why do you ask?” My head cocks to the side as I wait for her response.

She shifts in her seat and shrugs, nonchalant but completely missing the mark. I let the silence drag on, watching her reaction, waiting for a crack. Darcy readjusts her position once more, then throws her hands up in defeat.

“Wanda was going on and on about your little pack, and I got curious,” she explains while avoiding eye contact. “I haven’t met them yet. Plus,” she interjects with a raised finger, “my parents keep asking me when I’m going to settle down and my last relationship was a disaster.”

I hum. “We grew up together. They never left my side.” My shoulders bob. I find a strand of hair sitting on my sleeve and pluck it off, letting it dance on the air toward the floor. “I was actually pretty oblivious about it. We only mated, officially, about a month and a half ago.” My brow furrows as I piece together the timeline. “The paperwork is still processing through city hall—taking for-fucking- _ever_.” My hands pick at the cover of one of the books sitting on the table before me.

“Really?” Darcy’s eyes scan me from head to toe, skepticism heavy. “You’ve known them since you were, what?”

“We met when we were in Kindergarten, Ms. Simmons’ class.” A smile spreads across my lips as my mind drifts back to the memories. Running around the playground, playing house, swapped sandwiches and shared snacks.

Leaning forward, I begin piling up the books, stuffing away my notes. There’s no way I’ll be finishing them up today—not that I’m complaining.

“And you’ve only mated now?!”

The shriek almost echoes in the library around us. I duck my head and glance around, waiting for a librarian to shush us. Despite the one beside me being the cause of the ruckus.

“Yeah,” I drag out the word with a wince. “Like I said, oblivious. There was a whole ordeal, self-worth issues and, you know.” My face pinches in a grimace. Fingers flicking over pages as I close an especially large tome.

“Uh, no, I _don’t_ know. Because if I found my mates, I would not spend upwards of twenty years in _denial_ about it. I’d jump on that in a heartbeat.” She crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. Darcy’s gaze bores into me and I can feel the judgement.

“Right, well, that’s one way to look at it,” I grumble. I huff a sigh and turn to the younger woman. “Look, I’m just happy that out the clusterfuck my life was turning into, I got them. Have I wanted them to be mine since I was a kid, yes. Have we wasted time, hell yes. Did I brush a bit too close to death, sure. But I’m here now and I’m good.”

“You almost died?!” Darcy’s hands slam on the table. My eyes dart around, scanning for other patrons of the library, hoping we aren’t disturbing them.

“Touch deprivation, we’re dealing with it,” I wave off, trying to think of a way to calm her down.

Closing my bag, I lean back in my chair. My eyes glance once more at the clock. I really should be getting home soon. Bucky might start to worry—though Steve never seems to, anymore. Not since I marked him back. We’ve reached this new equilibrium—me and him—almost just like we used to be, before everything. I don’t dwell on that disappointment, though.

Darcy sits beside me, mouth gaping like a fish. The cogs whirl in her head, working out her next reaction. Her lips close, then part, and close again. I can practically see the smoke billowing out her ears as she muddles through. My teeth begin to worry over my bottom lip, trying to hold a smirk back from breaking over my face.

“Is your life some kind of telenovela I’m unaware of? Cause I would watch the shit outta that.”

Laughter wheezes out of my throat and she joins me. Her body leans into mine and I clutch at her bicep as we support each other on our chairs. It’s not that funny, but it’s like we’re running on fumes. And, God, does it feel good to laugh about it instead of cry.

Because, yeah, sometimes it felt that way—just a little.

I mean, a handful of weeks ago, I was isolating myself from my friends, the brink of death in sight. Then, with two bites, I’m mated and on the road to recovery. I bite Steve and Bucky back, after some _more_ miscommunication. We file the necessary paperwork, as soon as we remember it’s a thing. Two weeks later, they finally agree to let me out of their sight to start working again—two whole subway stops away from our home—and only after I put my foot down. And everything finally seems balanced.

Jesus, it’s astounding how much things change in so little time.

And now, it’s just a waiting game for my next heat—which should be any day. That is, if my constant pre-heat symptoms are anything to go by. For the last week, I’ve been occasionally cramping, experiencing hot flashes, way too emotionally fragile in sporadic bursts, and nesting in a frenzy. If they’re false alarms, I am fully prepared to cut a bitch.

Our laughter dies down, huffs of merriment leading to sighs. My hand reaches out for my bag, slinging it over the back of my chair until I’m ready to leave. I hang my neck back, stretching it out, releasing the tension. The relief doesn’t last long—my skin feeling too tight on my body. 

“Knew I’d find you if I followed the sound of a dying donkey,” A familiar voice echoes behind us. I turn, smiling as Clint saunters over.

“Hey,” I reply, half greeting, half grouse.

Clint plants his hands on my shoulders, leaning over and kissing the top of my head. I sigh and roll my eyes—there’s at least half an hour of my future gone, lost to Bucky’s mission to rid me of the other beta’s scent.

“What’s up?” I inquire, looking away from him and over to Darcy, who sits beside me, suspiciously quiet. My brow quirks in a silent question, but she doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Well, _someone_ isn’t answering their phone, and their mates aren’t very happy about it,” he replies, arms crossed over his chest. His biceps bulge with his fists and he leans on one of his legs. Eyes stern and reprimanding, with a sparkle of amusement.

My hand darts down, shuffling through my bag and searching for my phone. Pulling it out, I scramble to turn it on. 55 text messages and 32 missed calls—holy hell, seriously?

“Shit,” I grumble. “I’m sorry, I’ve been working.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” he responds with an easy smile as he perches on the side of the table. His feet lift up to rest on the side of my chair. “Just get home as soon as possible, or someone will be in trouble. And it ain’t gonna be me.”

“Why didn’t they ask Wanda?” I wonder. Fingers swipe over my screen, sending a message on our pack’s group text to update them on when I’ll be home.

“Gee, I wonder why,” he muses. “Must be that they did, but she didn’t answer. Probably too busy.”

A mischievous smile alights on my lips as Darcy snorts next to me, saying, “Yeah, she’s playing a rousing game of ‘drop the knot’.” She immediately claps a hand over her mouth, but Clint’s already looking—a glint in his eye.

“And who’s this?” he asks leaning forward and nudging my thigh with his foot.

“Darcy,” I say with a swift gesture in her direction and back to the beta. “Clint.”

He nods to the omega, an easy smile spreading across his features.

“Nice to meet you,” he says with a killer smirk—and good God, if I wasn’t mated and in love, I’ll admit that would make me weak. His hand reaches out to take her own in a firm shake.

“Oh, I know,” Darcy replies with a cheeky smile.

I lean back in my seat, taking in their exchange. Clint barks a laugh as he stands and places his hands on his hips. His eyes scan the library around us as he nods softly.

“Yeah, I guess you do,” he sighs. He turns to me, finger pointed and eyes turning just a touch serious. “You, keep your phone on. I might not be so close by the next time to check on you.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” I reply with a mock salute. It earns me a pair of eye rolls from the two beside me. A snort tickles my nose as my shoulder bob with muffled laughter.

“See you later,” Clint says as he backs away, goofy smile on his lips. He blows a kiss, I flip him off—with the utmost affection—and he leaves with a chuckle.

Darcy’s gaze remains focused, leaning in her seat to watch every last step he takes before he’s out of sight. Once Clint’s around the corner of the farthest stack, hands grab at my wrists and whip me around.

“That’s your beta?” she asks, eyes dancing with something akin to excitement laced with jealousy.

My brow furrows as I stare back at her. The conversation replays in my head, along with Clint’s gestures and familiar nature. I guess I could see it, _maybe_.

“No,” I retort shaking my head, a giggle bursts from my lips. “He’s mated to my friend Natasha, she’s an alpha. But my mates and I have known them since college. We’re sort of a tight knit group.” I pull my phone forward, unlocking it and looking through my photos until I find one of Clint and Natasha. “See, here.”

I hand my phone over to let her look. Her eyes bug out of her head—and is that a little bit of drool I see? Darcy zooms in on their faces, zooms out to look at their bodies. Looks to me, back at the screen, and back and forth.

“You’re an idiot,” she states, bluntly. “I mean, have you smelled them? He smells like cedar and rosin—it’s so fuckin’ swoon-worthy, man. I bet she smells just as good.”

“Like cinnamon apples and mahogany,” I fill in with my head cocked to the side and an bemused grin on my lips.

“I repeat,” she says pointing a finger at me, serious as sin, “idiot. They are _literal_ perfection. Why didn’t you mate with them?”

My hands wrap around my phone as I grab it back, ignoring the whiny noises of objection from Darcy. I roll my eyes and find another picture on my camera roll, a group picture of all of my friends—and one of my favorites of Steve and Bucky. I zoom in on them and bite my lips to force back my giddy smile.

“Because these are my mates, Steve and Bucky,” I reply dreamily and hand back my phone.

Darcy snatches it with eyes full of skepticism. She makes no noise, but her eyes do widen the second they land on the picture. She sits beside me, examining it for a while, just as she did with Nat and Clint’s picture. I take it as a sign of approval.

And then she says, “Nope, scratch what I said before, I get it. I was wrong. You’re right where you’re supposed to be, squished in the middle of a hunk sandwich.” I bark out a laugh and nod. Her fingers pinch on the screen and then open, looking at the whole group picture. Her mouth drops, stuttered syllables spilling from her lips. “You—oh my _God_ —are these your friends?” At my nod, she scoffs and playfully pushes on my arm. My head cocks as I right myself, ready to hear her explanation for her reaction. “They’re so hot!”

“I guess,” I reply, leaning over to look at the picture.

All of them stood grouped together at one of our Friday night hangouts. One from before my diagnosis. I’m not in the picture—the one behind the camera, unable to bear being so close to my friends back then. My tongue clicks as I pull back my phone.

“I mean, you know Thor, though,” I remind her. Tucking my phone back into my bag and latching it shut.

“Yeah, through Jane, I _guess_ ,” Darcy insists with an indignant huff, “But she’s never told me about Thor’s friends—I don’t know if she’s even met you all.”

She latches onto my arm, shaking it back and forth as she leans toward me. My eyes look with a quirked brow to her grip before raising slowly to land on her face.

“Dude, let me into the beautiful people club,” she pleads, excitedly, still shaking my arm.

“Alright,” I concede, hearing the faint vibration of my phone in my bag—a reminder to be on my way home. I stand and sling by bag over my shoulder. “We get together every Friday night at The Tower. I’ll text you the details, but,” I say making a grand gesture with my arms, bowing slightly and pointing in her direction, “you, Darcy Lewis, have now been officially invited.”

“Yes!” she cries, pumping her fist and standing to do a quick victory dance.

I say my goodbye and leave, checking my new message from Bucky and sending Darcy the details as I walk. It’ll be nice to have some new company at the table on Friday. The more, the merrier, right?

*

My eyes snap open on a new day and, Jesus fucking Christ, I’m sweaty and sticky and slick. It’s gross—so gross. My skin feels about ready to snap, so tight that if a muscle twitches I’ll shatter into pieces. I can’t find a comfortable position to lay in. Cramps absolutely ravage my lower abdomen, like a viking raid tearing through me. And I’m so hot, the surface of the sun would be cooler.

My body flips and flops on the bed, craving some kind of relief but finding none. My scent hangs heavy on the air, so much so that I can smell it—spiced honey and parchment. That never happens. The whole room is muggy with it and I groan—half of me disgusted, the other half a little too pleased.

This isn’t my first rodeo—it’s pretty clear my heat has started. God, the first wave of heat absolutely sucks ass. And the only thing that makes it better is bundling up in my nest and letting it run its course—burn itself out, just a little.

Pulling myself from the safety of the bed, I end up fumbling to the floor and stumbling toward my nesting room. Nearly falling through the door to the bathroom just adjacent, I fling the nesting room door open and collapse onto the blankets, burying my nose in them.

It is _so nice_ to have a legit room for my nesting blankets, cushions, and various accouterment. Back in my apartment, my nest sat off in a corner of my room completely vulnerable and not at all enclosed. Here it’s a whole room the size of a very large walk-in closet. And there’s still one of those and a bathroom all off the master!

I snap back to the moment, and away from the strange tangent about nesting rooms my mind seems hellbent on following—like I’m in any position to start redecorating mine right now. But holy heat symptoms, Batman, I’m already aching, needy, absolutely out-of-my-mind with it—usually it’s calmed just a little by spending time nesting—but nope, not today.

There are some bumps and groans from the bedroom before Bucky appears in the doorway, phone out and screen illuminating the shadows of the room. My eyes loll in his direction, a pathetic whimper sounding from my throat. I love Bucky, but he’s not the one I want right now. My omega is baying for Steve, wanting my alpha to come and make me better.

“Where’s Steve?” I whine—and, please, do not let that be my default tone during this heat. God, how cringey.

Bucky, eyes clearing of sleep and expanding with desire, shuffles inside the small, enclosed space piled with blankets and pillows. He kneels beside me, reaching out to feel my forehead. Nostrils flaring as he pulls a deep breath of my scent into his lungs.

Without thought, I smack his hand away—what the hell kind of instinct was that?!—before regretting it with every ounce of my being.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I whimper. My hands land on his shoulder, tracing down his arms and pulling his hands back to my face, kissing his palms and leaning into his touch. “I didn’t mean to.” My omega scrapes at my consciousness, pushing to take over, but I keep her firmly back, leashed away from the front of my mind.

“I know, babydoll,” he assures me, tilting my face to examine my blown-out pupils and parted lips. “You just need your alpha.” He sighs and pulls out his phone, checking once more. “Steve already left for his morning run, but I texted him that you’re in your first wave. He’ll be back soon.” His teeth bite over his lower lip, nerves eating away at him.

Of course, I couldn’t blame him. My mates were made well aware of what this would be—Heat: Fuck or Die Edition.

Lucky for me, first waves are often less extreme than the rest of a heat and they can sustain a stable state the longest without an alpha. Thank you, evolution, for realizing it might take a hot second for an omega to find her mate.

I’m just praying the touch deprivation and hormone imbalance doesn’t throw a giant fucking wrench in this thing before Steve gets back.

My fingers reach up, pulling his lip away from his teeth, running my fingers over the plush tissue, red from the pressure of his bite. Losing myself in the feel of the smoothness, I get lost mumbling words like ‘so pretty,’ ‘my beta.’ But it’s the other nonsensical ramblings that are sure to embarrass me a whole heck of a lot when I finally resurface from this headspace.

“Let me take care of you for our alpha,” Bucky begs, body pressing close to mine. “Get you ready to take his thick knot.”

My head bobs in a nod as Bucky captures my lips. His teeth nip as we kiss and his arms snake around me. He lays me back on the plushness of my nest and strips off the oversized, sweat-drenched shirt I wear to bed. My panties go flying out of the room next, slung over his shoulder without a single thought after he peels the soaked material from my folds.

Bucky’s eyes close for a second, his lungs pulling in deep breaths. And when he opens his eyes, something wild stares back at me. He lunges forward, burying his face in between my thighs, seeking out my scent glands. He licks away the slick, cleaning me of the stickiness I woke to—biting and sucking at my thighs until I cry out.

A rumbling purr echoes through the room as he continues on his task, absolutely torturing me and ignoring the one place I need him most. My hands lift from my sides, ready to lace into his hair and tug him to my center.

But his gaze immediately snaps up, purring silenced. His blue-grey eyes smolder with barely concealed lust, self-restraint just barely keeping him in place.

“Please, Bucky,” I cry, wanting nothing more than the culmination that awaits me, once he stops being such a goddamn _tease_.

A quick flash of pain, his hand striking my thigh, draws me to the surface, to clarity, away from that haze, the all-consuming fever. I suck air deep into my lungs, evening out the rapid tattoo of my heartbeat. My eyes blink in the muted light of the room.

Minutes tick by accompanied by irritation beginning to grow within me, blossoming and spreading in tandem with my desire, my need. My hips buck under my beta’s hands. His grip tightens, aiming to keep me pinned down. A growl begins to roll in my throat, an angry, threatening thing—and, by God, is it something that scares me. My features contort into a snarl, displeased by my mate’s abstention.

“Hey!” His hand lands on my thigh again. Another jolt of my lower body, shying away from the pain. “Don’t start that, omega,” he admonishes with a deepening scowl, “Got to get you ready.” An irate pout sits on my lips as I gaze down at him. His expression clears incrementally, fighting through the fog of instinct, until a smooth, reassuring, mildly amused grin spreads over his lips. “I promise, I’ll take care of you.”

Much more controlled, gaze more tender, he leans down, brushing a kiss to each thigh before sinking toward my core.

Sparks of pleasure dance up my spine with just the feel of his breath on my lower lips. But once he parts me and dances his tongue along my folds—with the gentleness of butterfly wings—I cum. Just like that, muscles clenching, my orgasm pulsing through me on waves of soothing delight, washing over my extremities.

And Bucky keeps going—as though he’s still searching to pull the first strains of pleasure from my body. His tongue flicks over my clit, playing with it on the tip of his tongue, sucking it, and darting away to my entrance. A dance that has me teetering on the edge and unable to plummet into euphoria. But then his tongue slowly fucks into me, a sweetly powerful movement that has me keening and burying my head into the blanket beside my face—senses overtaken by the smell of my mates. One of my hands clutches at it, practically smothering myself in my nest. The other reaches down and curls into Bucky’s hair, pulling him closer and scratching lightly against his scalp.

He moans into my core. It vibrates just right against me, his nose just knocking against my little button of nerves, and another orgasm washes over me, just as soft as before—the edge taken off the incessant fever.

And then he add his fingers. He pushes into me, that amazing stretch, and finds my g-spot as if there are magnets attached between the two points. He prods and rubs and drives me back toward that peak with his digits.

It’s like I’m out of my body, hazy and drifting above it. Seeing the ministrations of my beta, but completely losing every thought in my head. All sensation is pleasure and nothing hurts—except that little point within me, pushed forward by my omega to the forefront of my mind, the one that _needs_ a knot.

My legs clamp around Bucky’s head, halting his movements between my thighs. As they release, he looks up as I gently tug on his hair.

A whimper escapes my lips as I look down at him. “I need more, Bucky, that’s not what I want. Please!”

The plea washes over him, a struggle raging in his eyes. He shifts his position, pressing the line of his cock, encased in his boxer briefs, against my core, and rocks his hips. The friction sends electricity skittering through me. My head drops back as I release a throaty ‘yesss!’ but he stops. Hands clenched tight on my waist. I try to take over the movement myself. He keeps me still.

His head shakes, trying to convince himself as much as me, as he replies, “No, babydoll. Can’t knot you, that’s Stevie’s job.”

As if pushing away his instinct to sink into me and give me what I need, he shuffles back on his knees just the slightest bit, keeping me close but away from temptation.

“Bucky,” I whine, all petulance and displeasure.

His hand smooths over my stomach, curling over my neck. I freeze. My heartbeat picks up its pace, rapid from exhilaration.

“I said no, babydoll.” His voice is a growl in my ear, barely restrained as he presses a kiss to my cheek.

My omega takes the reigns, despite the growing need to feel a knot stretch me as my mate cums, and my body slumps pliant under him. Bucky coos in approval, skimming his hand over my sides, and taking me down from a soft boil back to a bare simmer.

My core clenches painfully around air, a reminder of my condition. My body curls on itself in response and Bucky comforts me with tender caresses. His eyes meet mine, worry evident on his features. My lungs draw in panting breaths as I stare back, brow tilted in pain and eyes begging for mercy. He kisses my forehead once with a whispered, “I love you.”

And then he starts his process all over again by slanting his lips over mine. Did I call it torturous before? I was naïve, then, even such a short period of time proving me wrong.

Because _this_ , what Bucky does now, is torture. He kisses me, rubbing his hands all over my body, working me up higher and higher. He descends and settles again between my thighs. I hum in excitement. He wrings another orgasm from my body, letting me get lost in the waves of ecstasy. He draws out another—and thank God heats prepare an omega’s body for endless cycles of stimulation.

I’m lost in a dreamy, feverish world of need and desire, aching for a knot. I beg, again. He stops. Waits until I submit and relax my body. And then, he starts _again_.

Doing everything to push me closer to fulfilling my heat, working me into a state of desirous need, ready to take his knot into my body and squeeze him dry of his seed. Frantic to please him and finally satiate this urge and gnawing deep within me. To dissipate the heat. And then he stops. Denying me exactly what I need and then cooling the flames licking at my core.

Tears begin to stream down my cheeks, too much, too little happening. He shushes me, an apologetic thing as he brushes them away from my face and keeps on.

The only pause in his movements comes from a sound downstairs catching his attention. The closing and locking of the front door. His eyes flutter shut and he lays his head on my stomach, relief saturating leather and rain.

Normally, I would perk up, run to greet my alpha. Jump into his arms and drag him into a kiss. I would do it now, too, if my limbs were anything more than a pile of heated gloop contained solely by my skin.

Breath panting, I listen. Heavy footsteps climb the stairs, and the heady charcoal and coffee scent of Steve wafts toward my nesting room. God, he always smelled so good after his run, so much stronger, richer, almost decadent.

He pauses. A whine warbles in my throat and the steps approach closer. Steve enters the doorway, breathing heavily, eyes focused on me.

“Alpha,” I croon, head still dazed and floating above my shoulders.

Steve kneels beside me, his warm hands reaching out to touch my forehead, swiping sweaty hair away from my face and feeling my temperature.

“She’s too hot,” he murmurs. A kiss planting on my cheek before he looks to our beta.

Bucky whimpers, eyes darting over my figure as his hand smooths over my skin. “I didn’t know if it would fuck everything up, me knotting her. Especially the first time. The doctor said she would need her alpha, not her beta. I didn’t want to make her worse.” His eyes shine with unshed tears as he looks to our mate.

They lock gazes, one of their silent conversations. Steve keeps one hand cradling my face as his other reaches to pull our beta closer to his chest. They share a sweet kiss, resting their foreheads together as they pull apart.

“You did good, Buck,” Steve mumbles. “She’ll be fine.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. “I-I’ll take care of her.” The alpha’s jaw clenches shut, teeth clicking together as he turns back to me.

Bucky’s brow tilts, eyes locking with mine, a worried expression painting his face. His mouth opens to ask his question, but Steve cuts him off.

“Not now, Buck,” he says, stripping off the layers of his running gear, “I need to take care of our girl.”

Somehow, someway, I find the strength in my body to push myself up and move. My omega instincts screaming at me to present for my alpha, I turn my back to Steve and rest my weight on my knees and elbows. A sort of clarity breaks through the haze of my heat, a primal understanding that I’m being a good omega for my mate. My teeth gnaw over my bottom lip as anticipation shudders down my spine.

Tentative hands land on my hips. They smooth up my sides, delicious tingles following in their wake. Steve’s strong fingers run down my spine, pulling apart my cheeks and sliding over my folds. A sigh blows past my lips, eyes fluttering shut.

And then the hands retreat. My hips sway with excitement, enticing my alpha to bury himself deep with in me. But nothing happens. I wait. A minute passes.

My eyes turn back to look. A scowl mars Steve’s face as I mumble a slurred, “what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer me, displeasure written plainly in his gaze. My omega withers under the speculation of my upset alpha. Another cramp seizes my muscles and I contort into a fetal position, clutching my abdomen—a vicious pain, like a punishment.

“Steve, what are you doing?” Bucky asks, panic lacing into his words.

But our mate stays as frozen as a statue. Bucky jumps to my side, purring to calm me down, hands working to ease the ache of my sex.

“I’m sorry,” Steve replies, eyes wide and looking lost. “It just didn’t feel right. I can’t—” He cuts himself off. His hands clench into fists at his side and his eyes drop away from us.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, breath stuttering in my lungs.

“No, of course not, sweetheart. My instinct are screaming at me, but I can’t figure out what my alpha wants.” His hand cards through his short hair, tugging at the strands. Frustration eats away at him as seconds tick by. I turn to Bucky, eyes pleading for help as my fever burns.

“Doesn’t it want your omega?” the beta asks, a note of irritation souring his tone.

“Always,” he replies immediately. He sighs, just as aggravated. “And that’s part of the problem. I can’t wrap my head around how I’m supposed to do this. I know what I’m meant to do, but it feels wrong.” His eyes seek out my gaze, looking for understanding. “I’ve been fighting my instincts since the moment I met you and now I don’t know how to take care of you.”

I push myself onto my knees, using Bucky as support as I shuffle closer to our alpha. Steve grabs my waist, pulling me close and scenting at my neck. With panting breaths I plead, “Just kiss me and stop thinking, Steve.”

And that’s all it takes. A breathy whisper and the use of his name. His eyes meet mine and his lips crash against me, devouring me and my gasp of surprise.

He pushes me back into Bucky’s arms, our lips locked together. A happy trill echoes in my throat as both their touches alight upon my skin. God, this is the life—utter paradise.

Steve’s hand wraps around my nape, controlling our kiss as his tongue swipes into my mouth, tangling with my own. I follow his lead, ecstatically submitting to my alpha.

Our breaths and moans taste sweet as they flow between us. But I want more. My hips jolt up, searching for friction, for fulfillment. Steve draws his lips away, his thumb brushing over my cheeks as he gazes into my glazed eyes.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Hands searching, he finds me wet and wanting, fully ready to take him. But he teases, grinding his cock through my folds and bumping my clit. A cheeky grin flashing across his lips at the responding noise drawn from me. I don’t even have the capacity to fully appreciate how happy I am that he’s overcome that funk—or how absolutely adorable that little grin is. I just want him inside me, so deep I can taste him.

“Just like that,” he moans, guiding himself to my entrance and pressing in.

He sinks into me, pulling my hips up and angling as deep as he can get. A purr rumbles in my chest as my hand reaches out, grabbing my mate’s side. His hips sit flush to mine, pelvis just barely dragging against my clit. Steve’s mouth hangs open on a satisfied huff of breath.

Oh, he’s enjoying this way too much.

I know that if I start grinding my hips, my alpha will not be pleased with me. So, I don’t. Instead, I lean into Bucky, wrapping my free arm around his neck and squeeze my inner walls around my alpha’s amazing cock.

“Jesus,” Steve gasps, hands clenching on my hips. His body curls over mine for a moment, his breathing an uneven, shaky mess.

Pride swells through me. Until the moment Steve looks back up. Eyes blown dark with lust and a feral grin on his lips. I swallow hard, thrill skittering up my spine.

“So it’s gonna be like that, is it?” He leans close, nose brushing against mine, a soft growl rumbling through his words. “Oh, sweetheart. You’ve asked for the alpha and I am done holding back.”

I nod, frantically, absolutely overjoyed with the prospect of Steve letting loose and finally releasing his self-restraint.

In a brief moment of clarity and concern—one so short it’s near nonexistent, and will have to be more fully examined later—my omega weeps for her alpha mate. My hand reaches up to cradle his face, wipe my thumbs over his cheeks in a gentle caress. I draw his lips to mine, a sweet kiss—out of place in the moment—but I say, “Whatever you want, alpha. I trust you.”

Steve leans into my neck, running his tongue over my mark and pressing a kiss to my scent gland. His teeth scrape over it. A shiver slides down my spine.

And then he’s thrusting into me. Brutal, powerful, wonderful thrusts that shake me down to my bones and give me everything my omega has been craving. My eyes roll back into my skull, my thighs squeeze around his waist, and my head hangs limp on Bucky’s shoulder as he cradles my body for our mate.

“That’s a good girl,” Bucky croons. “Stevie, look at her.”

My beta’s nose runs up the column of my neck, pressing a kiss to my pulse point. His hands reach forward, kneading my breasts as he shifts his hips, sliding his hard length between the cheeks of my ass. His throaty moan brushes over my cheek as his hips jolt with the friction created by Steve’s thrusts.

But I’m lost, gone, and completely blissed out as Steve’s cock ruts into me, his eyes focused on where his cock spears into my center. With every drive, he bumps into that pleasure point inside me. And I’m ratcheting up toward that peak and he’s still going strong, not a stutter, not a hesitation in his movement.

Steve takes one hand away from my hips, brushing his thumb around my stretched entrance and bringing it to his lips. He purrs, head tilting to the side as he licks over the pad of his thumb. Then he lowers it back again. And he rubs my clit, just on the pleasurable side of too hard.

I vault off the edge and crash into rapture. My vision blurs around the corners as I try to breathe. Bucky tilts my head back, watching to make sure I’m alright. But, to be honest, I can’t even tell. It’s amazing and agonizing and all I want is more, more, _more_.

At least I haven’t passed out.

But my head fills with a rush of pleasurable hormones as my body takes the pounding of Steve’s hips, still hitting the right spots inside me and grinding against my sensitive nub. Any thought escapes my grasp as my body goes slack and I allow myself to be used.

Nothing in this world exists that could be better than this. What had Darcy called it? Oh, yeah, a hunk sandwich—eat your heart out. A hysterical giggle breaks over my lips, but I’m so far gone that it doesn’t even register in my mind.

Steve grinds, a dirty roll of his hips and a moan breaks through any other sound I make. His lips meet mine as he continues back on pumping, short and strong, pistoning on that one spot.

My mouth starts babbling without my control as I feel myself approaching that point of no return once again. Bucky’s hands hold me tight and Steve answers me back. But my ears are full of cotton and I can’t make out what either of us are saying.

Steve’s hips falter, a sign of his impending climax and the base of his cock begins to swell within me—his knot, oh my God, his _knot_. But he keeps going, as I clench around him and pray for his orgasm to come.

Yet somehow, mine comes first, wrenched from my body as his knot catches within me. I shatter apart, choking out a cry. My vision blacks out as Steve’s knot expands completely and I plunge into darkness.

*

Awareness flutters out of my reach for only a second before my eyes open. A tittering groan pushes past my lips as my body tries to stretch. Hands hold me steady, keeping my limbs and torso still.

“There you are, babydoll.” Bucky’s lips brush over my cheek. “Scared me to death, there, for a second.”

His arms slowly release me and new hands grasp my face to turn my head toward my alpha. I smile up at Steve, giggling with delight as I feel the distinct weight and tug of his knot still locked in me.

“Jesus, sweetheart, warn a guy when you’re about to pass out like that,” he chides, leaning down to press his face into my neck, scenting me, ensuring I’m okay.

One of Bucky’s hands taps on my hip and Steve’s. He scoots and wiggles underneath us as he tries to get out from our pile. My lips pout as he breaks free.

“You were squishing me, babydoll,” he explains apologetically, sauntering toward the door to the nesting room. “Plus, one of us has to make sure everyone is well-fed and ready for the next wave to hit. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, tops.” He knocks his knuckles against the doorframe and exits.

A sated sigh blows over my lips as I leans my head back in the pillows and gaze at Steve. A look of discomfort mars his face and I tilt my head in question.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, basking in endorphins and the reprieve from heat.

He stays propped on his elbows above me, eyes searching my face as he says, “I’m kinda resisting the urge to just collapse on top of you and keep you pinned beneath me.”

“Oh,” I reply breezily, wrapping my arms behind his back and using all my—limited—strength to pull him down. He resists, because of course he does, and I have no hope of budging him—damn those delicious biceps. I bite my lip, contemplating my response before saying, “Then do it.”

Hearing the challenge in my voice, his eyes lock on mine, dubious. But he relents nevertheless and lowers his body. We press skin to skin, much more comfortable as his hips slot easier against mine, keeping his knot from straining.

“How long do we have?” I ask, closing my eyes and relaxing.

“A while,” Steve replies as he does the same. He lays his head on a pillow next to me. I prop it up on a blanket, keeping his position comfortable and turning my head toward him.

“Good.” My eyes open, a dopey smile greeting me on my alpha’s face. Steve presses a kiss to my lips, soft and gentle. I press my lips together, suppressing a dopey grin of my own before my previous concerns flood back to the forefront of my mind.

“What’s this?” he asks. His finger traces over my brow, smoothing out the worry lines, or at least trying to.

“Are you alright?” I ask quietly. “Earlier, you said—have you really been suppressing your instincts since we met?”

He sighs, defeated. “At first, I didn’t want to pressure you.” His hand rests on my cheek as he strokes my face. “Then, it was about not wanting to scare you off.” His brow tilts in his show of vulnerability. “And yeah, it reaches back to the very first moment I met you up until you told me to stop thinking and kiss you.”

His hand scrubs over his face, and he looks up to the ceiling, rolling his shoulders away and changing our position until we rest on our sides. To compensate, my thigh hitches over his hip to keep us comfortably entangled.

“What would be so scary?” My hand lands on his chest, tracing nonsensical patterns across the bare expanse of skin. “I mean, really. Have you been holding yourself back this whole time?”

His face pinches with guilt. My brows raise in surprise—I thought he was just a little more distant than other alphas—fuck me, how did I not see this?

“It was harder, near impossible, just around the time of our mating. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I let it break through until I could reign it in again.” He looks at me from the corner of his eye. “But never—I never wanted to hurt you, sweetheart. And the way I feel, all these emotions inside me.” His stare turns fully to me and fire ignites in his gaze. “I’d burn the whole world for you—burn it down and salt the earth. Same as I would for Bucky. To keep you safe, to keep you happy.”

I blink under the intensity, tilting my head slightly to bare my throat on instinct. Steve’s thumb runs along my neck, smoothing over the skin and tracing the lines of his bite mark. My teeth chew over my bottom lip as a response fails to form in my head. Steve’s eyes soften as he watches me struggle.

“I get it,” he says, gentle and caring, self-deprecating in the most Steve way ever. “It’s a lot to handle, so I keep it in. I’m sorry it affected my being able to tend to your heat at first.”

My head shakes before the words form on my tongue. “No, no. Don’t apologize. You—that was—I don’t even think I can describe it right now, actually. You kinda made me knot drunk.” Laughter bubbles out of me as I press my face into the pillow. Steve joins me, shoulders relaxing as he does. “Look,” I start again as my mirth subsides. “I’m your omega. I’m your mate. You’re not scaring me away anytime soon. We’re a pack—you, me, and Bucky. The three of us against the world.” My hand reaches out to pull Steve closer to me so I can lean my forehead against his. “Instincts can be invasive and daunting, but _you_ are not. You’re my little Stevie.”

He scoffs at the moniker and rolls his eyes. A hand slaps down lightly on my backside for the slight. And a chuckle shakes my chest.

“You are,” I insist on a laugh. “And that hasn’t changed since the moment _I_ met _you_.” I shrug, nonchalant. “I mean, Bucky spent a good hour the other day scenting me because Clint kissed my hair. And I’m not complaining. You know why?”

He shakes his head, a look of mild intrigue on his face.

“Because I _like_ it,” I state slowly, making sure every word sinks in. “You guys aren’t the only ones with instincts. My omega _preens_ with all the attention—and I ain’t mad at it either.” A smirk spreads my lips as I peer at Steve from under my eyelashes. “I adore feeling coddled and precious. So, please, don’t hold back on my account. Talk to me about it and we can work it out.”

His face clears of a cloud I was unaware obstructed it. A rumbling purr vibrates in Steve’s chest as he nips at my scent gland, hips jolting against mine. A gasp squeaks past my lips at the brief friction against my clit and I hum as my alpha’s knot stretches me just right.

“Don’t you two start anything,” Bucky admonishes as he saunters into the room, sans bottoms and looking just as debauched as I’m sure Steve and I do.

He holds a tray, which usually sits on the ottoman in the living room, piled high with a giant mixing bowl of something steamy, and a few hand towels.

“What did my lovely beta bring?” I coo, running my hand up his calf as he stands over me. The most beautiful hint of a blush tints his cheeks as he gazes down at me.

“You two need to eat and I wanted to help you clean up, especially since I, uh, came all over your ass.” He looks away, turning just the barest bit pinker as I chortle. He sigh, rolling his eyes at my childishness. “I just don’t want you sticking to your nesting blankets, sue me.”

He sinks to his knees beside me, setting down his tray and grabbing one of the wet towels.

“Thank you, Bucky,” Steve says with an affectionate smile and a kiss.

With some maneuvering, Bucky helps us move so I straddle Steve’s lap, hips pressed flush together. My alpha holds the bowl between us—absolutely filled with pasta because apparently ‘an omega in heat needs the carbs’—and feeds me forkfuls while taking bites for himself. I certainly wasn’t going to complain. All of it is delicious.

Our beta helps us clean, taking a damp towel to wipe away sweat and slick and other dried or sticky bits and I can’t help but scrunch up my face in mild disgust.

“What?” he asks, tossing the towel into an empty trash bag from the kitchen.

“I’m gonna be like Niagara fucking Falls once this knot goes down,” I mutter out, with a hint of distaste.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, babydoll,” Bucky retorts with a smarmy smirk.

I smack his chest with the back of my hand and accept another bite of pasta from Steve. Bucky nuzzles against my neck as I chew, nibbling over his bite mark until Steve playfully pushes his head away from me. Our beta groans dramatically and falls back on the blankets beside us, watching us with adoration shining in his eyes.

*

When we resurface from my heat, filthy and sticky and sated, a week has passed without interruption from the outside world. Late Friday afternoon sunlight shines through our curtains.

Walking is—well, walking is hard—a goddamn Herculean trial. My legs are just a bit bowed and, while soreness isn’t really a factor for my lady parts, it is for every other muscle in my body—even ones I never knew existed.

Bucky helps me in the shower, washing away the last remnants of my heat from my tired body and soothing the aches. He helps me dress, one of Steve’s t-shirts, a slouchy sweater of his, and a pair of my favorite jeans. Not my usual outfit, but perfect nonetheless.

Steve cradles me on the couch as he talks to Dr. Cho over the phone, updating her to my condition and listening to her recommendations—lots of rest, no strenuous activity, cuddles and comfort.

My face nuzzles into his neck, sleep plucking at my senses. Shaking my head, I wake myself up with light slaps to my cheeks. Steve’s chest shakes with silent laughter as he watches. He ends the call with the doctor, sets down the phone, and turns, wrapping me in his arms.

“We don’t have to go tonight. They all know you’re just coming down from your heat.” He meets my eye as my brow furrows. He kisses my forehead and reminds me, “We texted them all last week that we couldn’t make it. No one would mind if we had to do it again.”

A pout sits heavy on my lips. We’re going to drinks tonight at The Tower, I insist on it. It’s been too long since I’ve seen my friends. Almost two whole weeks. I need the socialization with everyone.

“Alright,” he concedes with a laugh as I push at his chest. “Alright, we’ll go.”

I smile and burrow back into Steve’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, steady and strong. Bucky putters around in the background, getting ready and tossing things around. My minds drifts as I close my eyes, resting and relaxed.

And then ambient noise of The Tower filters through my ears, the thrum of music and hum of distant chatter. My eyes flutter open to the warm lighting of the bar.

“There she is,” Tony crows happily with his signature tumbler full of amber liquid.

Confusion paints my face as I struggle to remember how I ended up at our usual table with my friends. A hand pets over my hair, brushing away loose strands from my face.

“There you are,” Steve echoes with an affectionate smile.

I stutter out syllables, unable to string enough together to form coherent words, but Steve, ever the mind-reader, replies before I have to.

“You took a nap before we headed out, but you insisted we come, so I carried you here while you were asleep,” he explains easily.

My first reaction is a quiet, “oh,” as it makes sense. My second, more lucid reaction is a flabbergasted, “What?!” I push my body up from my slouched position on his lap and really take stock of what is going on around me.

Tony sits across from us with Bruce, nursing their drinks beside Wanda. Nat, Clint, and Thor have yet to arrive. Does that mean we were _on time_?! Bucky sits beside us in the booth, our bodies crammed close together. And Steve carried me to the bar. He _carried me_ to the bar—Jesus H. Roosevelt _Motherfucking_ Christ.

Incredulity is not a strong enough word for what overcomes me. Mixed with a healthy dose of humiliation at the thought that people saw my alpha carrying my sleeping form as he walked down the street, the blush that crawls up my body—from my toes—burns bright enough to challenge a supernova.

“Oh my God, Steve!” I cry, burying my face into his neck in embarrassment.

The bastard laughs at me. And, of course, Tony joins in. And before I know it, everyone else is muffling laughter, too. Warmhearted, good-natured, and friendly, but still mortifying.

“Kid, don’t worry about it,” Tony intones, “It was the cutest thing I’ve seen all year. Plus, all those people out on the street are strangers. None of _them_ will remember it.”

I peek out from my hiding spot on Steve, staring right through the man’s feign at innocence. “Well,” I reply with a shrug, eyes narrowing and a mischievous grin forming, “at least I’ve never stood on top of the bar, donning a cape and crown, singing _My Heart Will Go On_ to my mates, while bawling my eyes out.”

“That was _one time_ ,” he protests, a look of betrayal sent in my direction.

“And, yet, there is video evidence,” I retort with a smirk.

Boisterous laughter echoes around the table as Tony continues to stare at me and stutter about my treachery.

Finally, he grumbles, “Touché,” and takes a pouty sip of his drink. Bruce winks at me over the table and Steve squeezes me tight on his lap.

Thor joins us soon after, bundling everyone in warm hugs and greeting us all with his usual cheer. He’s followed by Nat, Clint…and Darcy.

And the reason I notice her presence is from her loud exclamation of “Holy shit, dude, how are the two of you even real?” as she stares, mouth agape, at Steve and Bucky. Though, if we’re being honest, no one can ignore her if she’s vying for attention.

I turn to my omega friend, delighted and surprised to see her. I stumble over apologies for missing the first Friday I invited her to The Tower, but she brushes them aside.

My body wiggles as I scoot from Steve’s lap and draw her into a tight hug, swaying side to side as we laugh and titter about our weeks. Apparently, her and Wanda are gagging for details about my heat. My eyes roll even though I know I’ll be spilling the beans on Monday as soon as I get to the library.

Steve stands up from the booth, stepping behind me—probably to draw me back to his lap, and yes, please, thank you very much, let’s do that. But the growl that breaks through the conversation raises the hair on the back of my neck as panic clutches me. My hands release Darcy as I whip around to look at my alpha, to see what’s wrong.

But Steve’s just standing there, hand outstretched toward my back, looking just as shocked as I am. My eyes scan over the surrounding area and fall to Natasha. Who stands with Darcy shoved behind her back, snarl on her face. Steve backs down, pulling on my arm to urge me back from the situation. I follow easily and let him bundle me safely in his arms as we sit back in the booth.

My omega friend’s head peeks around the protective alpha with a smile that is far too pleased. Nat’s eyes roll as she calms and pulls out a chair from the table. She places herself in it and drags the omega into her lap. Clint stands in the background, amused as he watches on and grabs his own chair.

“Yeah,” Darcy addresses me, a triumphant lilt to her voice. “As it turns out, thanks for _not_ mating with Natasha and Clint, because, dude, they’re totally mine.” A brilliant smile spreads over her cheeks and I shriek in excitement.

My eyes dance excitedly to Steve and Bucky, who look just as pleased as I am, nodding their heads and smiling toward Nat and Clint in congratulations, but cautious of unintentionally encroaching on a new bond.

Conversation begins around the table as everyone settles, Darcy spilling her own details about bonding while we lean over our alpha’s laps to get as close to each other as possible. Snickers across the table tease us about our positions, but I can’t find it in me to be upset by it.

By the end of the night, everyone is calm and just the right amount of tipsy. And I can’t help myself. I insist on taking a picture, a new group picture with _everyone_ in it. I even successfully guilt trip Bobbi into joining us as I hand my phone over to her co-worker, Lance.

We all huddle up, Steve and Bucky pulling me close and standing just behind me, Bucky’s arms wrapped around my waist. Wanda loops her arm through mine and Darcy does the same on my other side. Natasha stands in front of Steve, within easy reach of her new mate. Clint loops his arm around her, careful not to block the view my alpha. Thor stands behind Wanda with his big palm resting on her shoulder. Bobbi inserts herself beside him. And Bruce and Tony stand on my other side, next to Steve and Clint, Tony hugging his omega from behind.

Lance counts us down and the flash blinds us all. But my smile stretches across my face until my cheeks hurt—unable to contain the amount of joy bubbling up within me. The picture comes out great, no one blinking or making a weird face.

Tears well on my waterline—happy tears, of course. And I pass my phone around for everyone to see as they settle back at our table. Noises of approval sound across the group until my phone arrives back in my hands. I send it out to each of them, but it takes me a minute to stop staring at the image and tuck away my phone.

As I join back into the conversation, Thor regales us with one of his outlandish stories as we all listen in. My eyes skip over the enthralled, and sometimes skeptical, faces of my friends. A contented sigh blows over my lips. This is perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think. I love hearing feedback. 
> 
> 💜


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